


Halloween 2021

by torestoreamends



Category: Harry Potter and the Cursed Child - Thorne & Rowling
Genre: Fluff, Halloween, M/M, Malfoy Family Feels, One Year Later, Post-Canon, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-31
Updated: 2016-10-31
Packaged: 2018-08-28 07:41:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8437102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/torestoreamends/pseuds/torestoreamends
Summary: It’s been a year (or forty years, depending on how you look at it) since the events of Godric’s Hollow. A lot has changed in that time, almost all of it for the better, but it’s still Hallows’ Eve. It’s never been the easiest of days.Beta'd by brief_and_dreamy





	1. If I had to choose a companion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In part one: Albus and Scorpius reminisce about being lost in time, and Scorpius isn’t very good at sliding down banisters.

It's the 30th of October. A Hogsmeade weekend. Truly Autumn now, the forest turned into a red and orange conflagration, frost glittering the lawn in front of the castle, bitter winds rattling the castle windows, grey skies constantly threatening rain and maybe even snow. 

Inside the warmth of the castle Scorpius hops up onto the banister of the Marble Staircase and kicks his feet happily, surveying the seething mass of students around them. "This time last year I was being tortured by an evil witch." 

Albus leans beside him, incredulity on his face. "You sound like you're actually fond of that memory." 

"I'm not really. Not of that one. Some of the others are good though. It was an adventure. Far more of an adventure than prefect's duty." There's a little knot of Ravenclaw boys shoving each other and he calls over the heads of the crowd. "No pushing on the stairs please!" The boys all glance up and immediately start giggling as they rush away. Scorpius rolls his eyes and wraps his robes tightly round himself. "We saved the world. With Harry Potter. It was exciting!"

"Have you forgotten Harry is my dad again? Nothing with him involved is exciting. It's just boring every day life." 

"Boring every day life like fighting Voldemort and-"

"Watching people be murdered," Albus says, turning and looking up at Scorpius, eyes hard and sharp like fractured glass. 

Scorpius sighs, shoulders slumping. "I'm not saying it was all a brilliant experience-"

"It was terrible," Albus says, folding his arms. 

"And I know we nearly died-"

"We were trapped in the past alone. We slept on the ground, Scorpius. On the ground in Godric's Hollow, and it snowed. I've never been so cold and miserable, and neither have you." 

"But," Scorpius says, cutting across him. "Some good things came of it. Your dad. My dad. Rose, sort of, if you squint a bit and tilt your head sideways..." He trails off, chewing his fingernails.

"At least you've moved beyond pity now. Incredulity is definitely a development." Albus glances up at him and smiles. "You'll be dating in no time."

"I don't even know if I want to date-" Scorpius cuts himself off, but not before Albus's eyes have gone bright and curious. 

"You've gone off Rose? Who's the new girl? Is it Polly? Or-"

"Maybe I'm just not interested in- This really isn't important. The point is it went well, Albus. In the end everything was fine. We beat Delphi. We survived. Time was restored. Everyone is happy..." He hesitates. "You are, aren't you? Happy? You'd tell me if you weren't?" 

Albus runs a hand along the banister and nods. "Of course I'm happy. And of course I'd tell you. You're my best friend. I tell you everything. I-" he takes a breath and braces his hands, staring down at the marble. "I'm happier now than I have been for years. Yes, probably because of that night but- That night itself wasn't a good one." He glances up, then turns around slowly and rests his back against the banister, head bowed, arms folded. "Aside from the fact she tortured you and killed Craig, we were terrified and cold and alone, and I know we had each other, but... I was too afraid to enjoy that. And then I saw my dad pretend to be Voldemort, I saw him get attacked, she tried to kill me, I wanted to kill her, and then the real Voldemort showed up and killed my grandparents, and my dad- my dad fell apart. I didn't..." He scuffs his toe against the floor. "I didn't stop crying until I fell asleep. It was a horrible night, Scorpius. One of the worst ever. And I can't pretend to have enjoyed it, even if you did."

Scorpius swings his feet back and forth, looking at Albus's tight shoulders and all the dark hair that's falling down into his eyes. It's got a bit longer in the past year. Albus keeps saying he wants to cut it but he hasn't got round to it yet. 

"I was excited, I think..." He tucks a strand of hair behind his ear and leans forward on the banister, holding on with his hands so he doesn't tumble off. "I always dreamed of going on an adventure with Harry Potter and his friends. I wanted to join Dumbledore's Army and fight Voldemort and be a hero. You don't get much chance for heroism when you're a Malfoy and you've spent your whole life hiding away in a manor. But there we were. Me and my dad. And you. Fighting evil. Saving the world. It was everything I ever dreamed of." 

"You have some strange fantasies," Albus mutters, pushing his hair out of his eyes and adjusting his tie. 

"I got that hug too," Scorpius says, kicking his heels against the marble wall. "From my dad. That was the first time he'd hugged me in... What... A year and a half? He was happy to see me. It fixed everything, all in one go." 

"I'm glad your family is so simple," Albus says. He doesn't sound resentful or bitter. It's a light, genuine statement of fact. "Mine certainly isn't. It took Dad half a year to manage to talk to me about any of it, even after everything. And it was thanks to all that mess, but... We watched my grandparents die, Scorpius. Did we have to do that to get where we are now?" 

"You said you wanted a test," Scorpius says. 

"I did. But was it worth it? Was any of it worth it?" 

"Well, you learned something, didn't you?" Scorpius asks, sitting up properly on the banister and pulling his hands right up inside the sleeves of his robes. 

"Maybe..." Albus doesn't sound nearly convinced. 

The stream of students heading out to Hogsmeade, or down to the Quidditch pitch, or to the library or the Great Hall, or wherever else they're going has mostly passed them by now. They're almost entirely alone again, apart from the last few stragglers who they can hear shouting and clattering on the staircases in the distance. 

"A lot has changed in the last year, hasn't it?" Albus runs a hand through his hair. "You're a prefect, I'm a... An almost decent student. Did you know my dad's actually coming up to see me tomorrow night? I'm amazed he doesn't have anything better to do on Halloween." 

"Are you going to miss the feast?" Scorpius asks, amazed. Surely even Harry Potter isn't worth missing the Halloween feast for. 

"No. He's coming afterwards." Albus turns half toward Scorpius and looks up at him. "I'm actually a bit worried, about what he wants to talk about... Do you remember the blanket? I told you he gave it to me as a present. That it was special.... And we ruined it, Scorpius. He always liked to find it on Hallows' Eve, and... Well what if he's angry?"

Scorpius gives him a slightly incredulous look. "Correct me if I'm wrong but... You think your dad is coming all the way up here just to tell you off? You aware that sounds ridiculous?" 

Albus groans and slumps against the banister. "I know, I know. I'm just scared. Dad makes me nervous. I don't want to do the wrong thing. And I don't want to get my hopes up that talking to him will go well because what if it doesn't? All the decent conversations we've had recently still feel too good to be true." 

"I know how you feel," Scorpius says, picking at the knees of his school trousers. "But Albus, your dad loves you. You'll be fine. He probably just wants to talk about last year." 

"My favourite topic of conversation," Albus mutters. 

"Or maybe," Scorpius continues, firmly cutting across him, "he just wants to spend some time with his son. Maybe he misses you. I know I miss my dad." He kicks his feet up and sighs. "You're lucky yours is coming to see you." 

"I am a little excited to see him," Albus admits, then glances up at Scorpius. "You could go and see your dad." 

"What," Scorpius says with a disparaging snort, "just show up at home? 'Hi dad, just thought I'd drop by because I miss you and it's Halloween.'"

"Exactly. I'm sure he'd be glad to see you."

Scorpius thinks about it for a moment. It seems like a ridiculous idea, but it's also just a little bit tempting. "Perhaps. I suppose you're going to Hogsmeade?" 

Albus shakes his head. "I have far too much work to do. Those Locomotion Charms for Flitwick are going to be the death of me. In fact I should probably go and get my stuff now." He peels himself away from the banister and starts traipsing away down the stairs. 

Scorpius follows him, not bothering to hop down from the banister, just shuffling along until he gets to the slope and starts sliding down it. He makes it halfway down the stairs before he loses his balance and comes off, stumbling down at least two steps and collapsing in a bruised, painful heap on the stairs. There's no point even trying to make it look elegant and deliberate, so he just sits there and rubs his back, face pulled into a miserable pout.

Albus bounces down the stairs and stands over him, clearly trying to suppress a grin. "Are you okay?"

"No." 

"I thought not." He reaches out a hand and pulls Scorpius to his feet. "That might be one of the most graceful things I've ever seen you do." His voice breaks from trying not to laugh, and Scorpius swats at him.

"I could be seriously injured. It's not nice to laugh."

"But you're fine," Albus says with a giggle. "Fine and ridiculous."

Scorpius swats at him again, pulling his robes back onto his shoulders in some semblance of order. Finally he turns to Albus with as much dignity as he can muster given what has just happened. "You know, I think I will go and see my dad. And I, um. I think you should know. There's another reason why last Halloween was good for me... I got to spend it with you." He hugs himself and looks at Albus who, despite being a step above him, is right at his eye level. He's so small. 

"I got to talk to you," Scorpius goes on. "To be with you. To meet your family, and see how brilliant your mind is. How brave you are. I'm sure I would have seen it eventually, but... It made me realise that there's no one else I'd rather have in the world for a best friend. We went through hell together, Albus. I wouldn't have survived it with anyone else, but with you..."

Albus looks at him, very still, one hand trailing on the banister, a very small smile forming on his lips. "If you had to choose a companion for the return of eternal darkness..." 

"It would still be you," Scorpius says without hesitation.

Albus glances away, swallowing. "I lied, last year. Because I think... Well..." He looks back at Scorpius, eyes jewel bright and intense. "I think I would chose you too."

For a long moment they stand there and look at each other, connected and transfixed. Scorpius isn't sure what to say or where to go from here. He's still trying desperately to work out where they are in his head. The boundaries between what he wants to do and what he's allowed to do. It would be so much easier if he knew what Albus wanted too. Albus is a constant surprise, moods and whims ever changing. But Scorpius doesn't mind being kept on his toes. Life is never boring when Albus is around. 

"I-I suppose I should go and do my Charms work," Albus says, breaking eye contact and scratching the back of his head, cheeks slightly pink. "I hope you have a good time with your dad. I um, I'll see you at the feast, or... Something." 

"You'd have to pay me a million Galleons to keep me from that feast," Scorpius says. "And even then I might show up anyway." 

Albus laughs. He pauses on Scorpius's step and hugs him tightly. When they dislocate he grins up at Scorpius for a moment before walking away toward the dormitory. Scorpius leans against the banister and watches him go, heart pounding. 


	2. Less murky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In part two: Scorpius and Draco carve a pumpkin and talk about saving the world.

Rushing wind, the roar of fanning flames, and a sudden burst of emerald light is the only warning Draco gets that anyone is coming. He's in his office reading when it happens, and he isn't expecting any visitors. He barely even has time to jump in surprise before a little bundle of black and green Hogwarts school robes and blond hair comes spilling out of the fireplace and lands in a heap on his carpet, sending soot everywhere. 

"Hi, dad," Scorpius says, popping up off the floor, recovering far faster than Draco can. "Oh, I ruined the carpet..." He dusts himself off and glances down at the floor, which is now sprinkled with black ash. He draws his wand, about to cast a spell, but Draco composes himself and gets to his feet. 

"Put that away. You aren't supposed to do magic outside of school." He draws his own wand and dispels the ash with a flick of his wrist. "I wasn't expecting you. What are you doing here?" 

Scorpius licks his lips and wraps his robes tighter around his body. "I missed you. Just thought I'd drop by. I've done all my homework, so..." His eyes flicker away from Draco, across to the corner of the room where a pair of enormous pumpkins sit. "Are those pumpkins? Why do you have pumpkins in your office?" 

Draco can't help but smile. Trust Scorpius to show up without warning and immediately start asking questions. "It is Hallows' Eve tomorrow. I believe pumpkin carving is a traditional activity." 

Scorpius stops, halfway across the room toward the pumpkins, and stares at him. "You were going to carve a pumpkin?"

"I was going to use magic," Draco says, tucking his chair under the desk and tidying his papers away. Clearly he's not going to be getting anymore work done now Scorpius is here. "I think your mother would have wanted me to get into the Halloween spirit." 

"You never have before," Scorpius says, crouching down and running a hand over the larger of the two pumpkins. "Can I help?" He glances up, eyes bright. 

"Of course. I was going to carve one and use the other for cooking."

Scorpius sighs, seeming to melt with delight just at the thought. "Mum's pumpkin pie recipe." 

Draco smiles. "It would have been soup, but since I have someone here to help me eat it..."

Scorpius grins up at him for a moment, then his smile fades slightly and he turns round properly, getting to his feet. "It is okay? Me being here? I suppose I should have asked, but... I wanted to see you."

"This is your home," Draco says. "You're always welcome here. And I'd be lying if I said I wasn't glad to see you." 

"Okay," Scorpius says, a relieved little smile spreading across his face. "So can we go and make some pie?" 

 

They work side by side in the kitchen. Scorpius has been persuaded to change out of his school robes and is now wearing faded jeans and a baggy emerald sweater with a slightly suspicious silver letter A splashed across the front, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Draco too has his sleeves rolled up, although he's still wearing his black robes, just with an Imperturbable Charm cast across the front. He could have done that for Scorpius as well, but he learned long ago that not even the strongest, most accomplished enchantment in the world can keep that boy clean while he's cooking. 

"The pumpkins at school this year are enormous," Scorpius says. "I think they're big enough I could live in one. Albus certainly could." He's been chattering incessantly ever since they got into the kitchen. There's no requirement for Draco to do anything beyond just nod, occasionally laugh, and just listen. 

The constant noise is comforting. The house is always far too big and quiet when he's alone in it, but Scorpius's presence fills it up to the brim. If it was anyone else going on and on about absolutely nothing at all Draco would want to throttle them, but when Scorpius is doing it it just makes him feel warm and happy and home. He actually enjoys hearing all the pointless details of Scorpius's lessons and the things he's been getting up to with Albus and about that particular group of third year Ravenclaws who always seem to annoy him so much when he's on prefect duty. He could listen to it all day. 

Time seems to disappear as Scorpius talks. Before Draco realises what's happening the kitchen is full of the delicious smell of baking pumpkin pie and Scorpius is covered head to toe in flour and bits of pumpkin pulp. He's kneeling on a chair, waving a kitchen knife around as he continues to talk animatedly. 

"Do you think you could be careful with that?" Draco asks.

Scorpius immediately puts the knife down on the table. "I wouldn't need it if you'd let me use magic. Do you think this design is a bit lopsided?" He tilts his head and examines the pumpkin in front of him. 

Draco walks round to stand behind him, waving his wand as he does and vanishing some of the mess covering Scorpius's clothes. Scorpius glances down at himself. 

"Thanks."

"I will never understand how you bake so well when more of the ingredients end up down your front than in the oven. Your mother was the same. It's an extraordinary talent." He puts a hand on Scorpius's shoulder and looks at the design he's drawn onto the front of the pumpkin. It's rather intricate, of a glorious stone castle set on a hillside, with clusters of soaring towers and turrets, and many windows that will presumably send light sparkling out once it's been carved. 

"Hogwarts," Draco says with a smile. 

Scorpius nods and twists round, looking up at him. "Is it okay?" 

"It's brilliant. I'm not sure you can carve it by hand though. Shall we do it together?"

"But I'm not allowed to do magic outside school," Scorpius says. 

"I suppose we can make an exception. Just this once. No one need know." 

Scorpius hesitates for a moment before drawing his wand, and they start carving together. Tiny razor sharp flicks of magic make delicate incisions, far more precise than they could ever manage by hand. Scorpius is exceptionally good at it, smooth, and accurate to the millimetre. Gradually the shape of Hogwarts forms before their eyes, and when they're done Draco extinguishes all the lights in the room and sets a hovering, bright white globe of light right at the heart of the lantern they've created. 

All those tiny windows shimmer and flicker with light. The replica Hogwarts they've carved glows in the darkness, a brilliant likeness for the real thing. Scorpius crouches down on the floor and examines it, a little smile on his face. 

"I think it's good. I like it. We did the Great Hall particularly well, look." 

Draco crouches beside him and looks at the tiny walls and towers and bridges. Scorpius has even remembered to include the Owlery, a little pinprick of light glittering out on its own away from the school. 

"You're still enjoying Hogwarts then," he says, glancing at Scorpius. No one who didn't love the school could have pictured it like this. 

Scorpius sits down on the floor, crossing his legs and pulling the sleeves of Albus's jumper down over his hands. "It's everything I always dreamed of. And more." He looks down at his feet and picks at the big silver A on his chest. "Some of the bullying has stopped, since last year. I think it's better now. Apparently saving the world is a good way to make people like you."

"Is it? I wouldn't know," Draco says faintly, still examining the tiny carved details on the pumpkin, the edge of the lake, the Astronomy Tower. 

"It was your Time-Turner," Scorpius says, and Draco glances sideways at him. "Without you we'd still be trapped in time. You risked everything, Dad. If it hadn't worked, if anything had gone wrong, you would have been blamed. I know you would." 

Draco bows his head. "It was a risk worth taking." 

Scorpius chews his fingernails and looks down at his knees. "I didn't expect to see you with them. My dad, with Harry Potter and his friends. Going on an adventure. Saving the world." 

"You didn't give me a choice," Draco says, watching the white light pulse and flare. 

"I was proud of you," Scorpius murmurs. "You proved me wrong." 

Draco looks at him, frowning. "Did I?"

Scorpius nods. His eyes flash a particularly bright silver in the light. "When I read about the war in all those books... All I ever saw were the bad things you did. The mistakes you made. I thought you might have been... I wasn't sure if-" He breaks off and runs a hand through his hair, frustrated. "I didn't realise that... That people change. I didn't realise that you changed. Not until I got into the other world and you didn't care. You didn't care that what I was doing was to do with Harry Potter. You didn't care what I was doing at all really, as long as it was safe. But I think... I think you knew it was good. That I was trying to change things. And you just let me. You could have stopped me. You could have been one of them but I don't think you were, I think-" he swallows. "I think you're good. You're Harry Potter's friend. You must be good. You helped save the world, Dad."

For a very long moment Draco just looks at him. It's entirely too much to take in. He feels very warm and entirely frozen all at the same time. Overwhelmed. Chest tight with it all. Scorpius is fidgeting and pink cheeked, maybe embarrassed by his words, or maybe just being his usual, ridiculous, passionate self. 

"I'm not sure I am good," Draco says when he finally finds his voice. "I don't think the world is as simple as that. Not for me at least."

"Mum thought you were," Scorpius says, voice going hard and stubborn the way it does when he's setting in for a fight. "And even Harry Potter is good and complicated, just ask Albus. You fought Delphi, Dad. I saw you in the battle. And you..." he pauses and drops his gaze, examining his fingernails intently. "You cried when he killed Lily. When Voldemort... I-I don't think Death Eaters do things like that." 

Draco gets to his feet. "I think the pie might be done." He walks away from Scorpius, reeling. The memory of those flashes of green light, of the screams, of Potter's sobs, of his own hot tears splashing into Scorpius's hair, they're still too fresh. It's been a year and it still hurts. It was too close to home. Lily Potter's death. It struck like lightning just a couple of inches too close to his heart. 

"Sorry," Scorpius mumbles behind him. Draco glances back to see his son sitting on his heels looking forlorn. "I didn't mean to-"

Draco kneels in front of the oven and picks up a pair of oven gloves. He's already put them on and opened the oven door when he realises that not speaking now will do far more damage than saying something ill advised in the heat of his emotions. He's still learning how to remove the careful guards he's built up around his heart. They shouldn't come between him and Scorpius. 

"She made me think of your mother," Draco says, removing the pie from the oven and setting it aside. He closes the door, folds the gloves away, and turns to Scorpius. "Fierce. Alive. So much to give. She would have done anything for her son." He leans against the side and adjusts his cuffs, gathering himself. "I'm not sure we ever told you, but... We thought having you might kill her, your mother. It was a risk. A risk she was willing to take. You were more important than anything else. She sacrificed years for you, and she never once regretted it. And I... I don't regret it either." He folds his arms and looks at Scorpius. "You are the best of both of us. I wouldn't have been in Godric's Hollow without you.  _You..._ You are..." He shakes his head. "I would have given anything to bring you back." 

Scorpius sits perfectly still on the floor, hands twisted together, drowning in the sleeves of Albus's jumper, covering his face. His silver eyes are all that are visible, wide and staring, the reflections of Hogwarts' many windows glimmering in them. 

"Dad..." He says finally. "I..." He shakes his head. "I don't know what to say." 

"Say nothing," Draco says.

Scorpius sits for a moment more, then he slowly gets to his feet and walks across the kitchen. He pauses right in front of Draco for the briefest second, then steps forward and wraps his arms tight round him. Draco gathers him in, stroking his hair. 

"I'm very glad you came home," he says quietly. 

"Me too," Scorpius whispers. 


	3. Things change

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In part three: Draco and Harry meet in the Three Broomsticks. A lot has changed since they were eleven.

Halloween. It's bitterly cold outside. Not too windy but completely cloudless and it's clear there will be a heavy frost in the morning. Draco gathers his cloak tightly around himself as he walks back down the school drive towards Hogsmeade. He can't reach the Three Broomsticks fast enough. His fingers are beginning to go numb and his cheeks are stinging. 

When he reaches the pub he ducks inside and stops just far enough from the door to avoid the draught, enjoying the warmth. He rubs his hands together and blows on his slightly pink fingers as he looks around. There aren't many other people in the bar on a frigid Sunday evening. A couple of regulars, the bar maid, and one far too familiar figure with messy black hair and a long, heavy cloak. 

"Potter," Draco says, walking up beside him and leaning casually against the bar.

Harry looks up from stowing a pair of bottles in an inside pocket of his cloak, emerald eyes bright with surprise. "Draco. I didn't expect to see you here."

"I had to bring Scorpius back to school," Draco says, sitting down on a bar stool and unbuttoning his cloak. "I was about to freeze to death out there so I thought I'd drop in. What brings you here? Not Auror business I hope? This is one of my favourite pubs, Potter. I'd rather you didn't shut it down for an investigation." Draco shoots Harry a smile.

"Nothing of the sort," Harry says, not seeming to notice. He's removed his glasses which are all fogged up from the heat of the room, and is rubbing his eyes. He looks tired. "I'm going to visit Albus up at the school. I thought it'd be nice to have some Butterbeer. Especially as it's so cold." 

"A peace offering," Draco says with another small smile. "You're learning."

Again the humour seems to wash right over Harry. He turns away slightly and starts cleaning his glasses off. 

"Sorry," Draco says, running a hand across the lacquered wood of the bar top. 

"No," Harry says, voice tight and defensive. "Don't be. I'd hate to deprive you of an opportunity to criticise my parenting." 

Draco can feel his own anger and infuriation rising up in his chest. Potter never makes anything easy. Stubborn and sullen and brooding, lost in whatever his latest turmoil is. It's Hallows' Eve so maybe Draco should be understanding, but it's Hallows' Eve for all of them. It's not Potter's pain alone anymore. 

"I'm sorry," Harry says, just as Draco is considering walking out. He looks up from the bar and there's tiredness in his eyes which are unusually dull, all their normal glitter erased. There are shadows on his face, cast there by the deep, dim, crimson flicker of the firelight which falls across the bar. Draco can see a bit of silver in his black hair. 

"It's this night. Albus. Everything..." Harry trails off, picking at a splintered bit of wood on the bar. 

"I hear he's doing well these days," Draco says, injecting as much lightness into his voice as he can. He didn't come here for a fight. 

Harry nods. "Yeah. He seems happy. I don't hear from him nearly enough. He'll never be as talkative as Scorpius. But I think he's doing well."

"Scorpius told me some of the bullying has eased."

"I know they've been using-" Harry cuts himself off and waves his hand. "They found ways of avoiding them. The bullies." 

"Your cloak," Draco says. He smirks when he catches Harry's look. "You have no secrets anymore. Scorpius tells me everything." 

Harry sighs and runs a hand across his face. "Of course he does."

Draco watches him silently for a moment, then sits down beside him at the bar. "Are you okay?" He'd asked the same question a year ago, almost exactly. Harry hadn't answered then, he hadn't needed to; he probably doesn't need to now. Draco can imagine. The pain of a day on which you lost loved ones never seems to fade.

"More or less," Harry says, with a slightly twisted little smile. "It's silly. There's nothing to worry about this year. No Voldemort, or Delphi, or anyone else. Just, you know..." His eyes flicker briefly away toward the window. It's dark outside, but somewhere in the distance is the hulking, shadowy mass of the castle where the feast must be in full swing. 

"Scorpius seemed to think things had improved," Draco says, still watching him. 

Harry sighs. "They have, but- Is anything ever easy? 

Draco thinks about the sudden spark of embarrassment and maybe even fear in his son's eyes as he'd stopped dead after having flown down a snow covered road with his arms outstretched. He thinks about tears shed into white-blond hair as dust from an explosion that rocked the world settled around them. He thinks about the light of a jack-o'-lantern shining in Scorpius's eyes, and the scent of pumpkin pie filling the air.

"No," Draco says, looking down at the bar. "I think things change. And if they're getting better isn't that the most important thing?"

"Sometimes I just wish-" Harry cuts himself off. He clenches his hands into fists and digs them into the pockets of his trousers. He's actually wearing jeans for once. Maybe he didn't even work today. "But you're right. Life isn't easy. We know that better than most."

They look at each other, eyes meeting through the shadows and firelight. Sometimes Draco still wonders how they ended up here. Through all the hatred and the twists and turns. The war. Curses. Wands. Rumours. Death. And now they're in a bar talking about their kids and Halloween. 

"The first time we ever met I asked about your parents," Draco says.

The corner of Harry's lips quirk into a smile. "You reminded me of my cousin."

"Was he a little shit too?" 

Harry snorts. "You could say that." He taps his fingers on the top of the bar and looks down at the woodwork. "I hated you. Didn't want to tell you anything."

"And there was I thinking we could be friends," Draco says, leaning back slightly on his stool and folding his arms. 

"It just took us a bit of time," Harry says with a flash of a grin.

"A bit." Draco lays a hand on the bar and turns to Harry. "Potter, I know I intruded last year. You wouldn't have chosen to show me any of what happened that night. I'm sorry." 

Harry looks at him, and his eyes are bright with surprise. "We wouldn't have been there at all without you... You know, occasionally Albus tells me things too. Not very often, but. I think it was a difficult night all round, wasn't it?" 

Draco swallows. "Your mother, she... Yes. It was. Difficult." He looks away. 

"Still is," Harry says, looking up at the racks of bottles behind the bar in front of them. "Especially today. Although... It doesn't hurt as much as I-" His eyes snap back to Draco's. "What was it you said before? Things change. I think things are changing. Last year... A lot of things changed all at once. And now here we are." 

"Here we are," Draco echoes with a small smile. "I think my younger self would be appalled." 

Harry grins. "Mine too I imagine. We both had a lot to learn." 

"You mean you've changed over the years?" Draco asks with mock incredulity. "I thought you were still the same noble, arrogant, self-sacrificing scar-head you were when we were eleven." 

Harry laughs. "I was never that bad." 

Draco says nothing, just gives him a significant look, and Harry gets to his feet, grinning and shaking his head.

"Well if you're going to start insulting me I need to get going. Have a pleasant evening, Draco." 

"Pleasant? That's very cold, Potter. I thought we were friends." 

Harry rolls his eyes. "Good bye, Draco." He starts walking away, and Draco calls after him, struck by a sudden desire to say a proper, genuine farewell. It feels important. Tonight of all nights.

"Take care, Potter."

Harry pauses by the door and glances back. He nods. "Yeah. You too." For an instant they connect across the space of the quiet bar, then Harry turns away and is gone in a rush of cold wind and the slam of the door. 


	4. Happy Halloween

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In part four: Harry and Albus drink Butterbeer, and Albus is more important than that mouldy blanket.

Harry sits on the front steps of the castle and waits, rubbing his hands together for warmth. It's a chilly night, one of the coldest of the year so far, perfectly still and cloudless. His breath mists in the air in front of him as he gazes up at the sky, inky black, broken by a small scattering of silver stars. 

From somewhere nearby he can hear the happy buzz of conversation, scraping benches, and clattering feet as students stream away from the Halloween feast. Not much longer now. He checks his watch and fidgets on the step, then looks up as the castle doors creak open, sending a flood of light down the lawn, a single small shadow darkening it. 

"Dad?"

Harry smiles. "Hello, Albus. Good feast?" 

Albus nods and wraps his cloak tightly around himself, hiding his hands inside it as he sits down next to Harry. "It was one of the best. I think they were trying extra hard this year because obviously last year it, well... It was cancelled." He huddles up into a little ball and exhales, breath swirling in eddies. "It's freezing out here. You should have come inside."

"I didn't think you'd appreciate- Anyway, I only just got here. I had to stop by the Three Broomsticks on the way up. Here." He pulls out two bottles of Butterbeer and hands one across to Albus. "It should still be warm."

Albus takes it and sighs as he cups his hands round it. "It is. Thank you." He curls his body round the warmth of the bottle and takes a small swig. Harry leans back on the step beside him and also drinks, the golden liquid sliding down his throat like a drop of molten sunshine. For a long moment they drink in silence, swathed in the black cloak of night, their surroundings lit only by the light pooling down from the castle windows. 

It's when things get dark and quiet like this that it gets difficult. Last year it had been a relief to get moving, to get fighting, to be doing something. For the couple of years before that he'd made sure he was working on this particular night, and before that he had always volunteered to take the kids out Trick-or-Treating. Anything is better than sitting around and thinking. 

He stares down at his bottle and remembers snow on the ground, flashes of red fire as he hugged Albus desperately against his chest to keep him safe, green light, his mum screaming, the house blown apart and raining ash and wood and brick as he crumpled onto the cold, wet ground. 

"Are you okay?" 

Albus's voice drags him out of his thoughts and he glances up to see his son watching him, eyes dark but sparkling 

Harry nods. "Just thinking." 

Albus looks down at his knees, running a finger around the rim of his bottle. "About last year. I-I can't stop... I never-" he bows his head and takes a breath. "I never really thought about it before. It was always just another day. But now I..." He glances up, looking almost wary. "Now I can't stop thinking about grandma and granddad. This is the day they died, it- it's difficult." 

"I know," Harry says softly. "It's never really been the best day. Although in my first year at school it was the day Uncle Ron and I made friends with your aunt Hermione."

Albus gives a small smile. "You killed a troll. Scorpius told me."

"I don't think we killed it," Harry says, grinning. "Just knocked it out."

"I think it's almost the same thing," Albus says, taking another swig of Butterbeer. 

They fall into silence again. Harry knows he should think of something to say, but knowing what Albus does or doesn't want to hear is still a challenge, and he's staring so intently down at his bottle again that Harry is a little scared to interrupt his thoughts. There's a little frown on his face. It's that look he gets when he's working through something, trying to decide what to say. In the past Harry wouldn't have noticed, would have assumed it was just him not wanting to talk, but he finally knows better, so he lets the silence stretch on.

Finally Albus shifts his seat on the step and looks up again, cautious, stance always guarded and a little defensive, hunched in on himself, never letting himself become exposed. Harry desperately wants to tell him that it's okay, that he won't interrupt or judge, that Albus should take his time, but somehow he senses this isn't the moment. It's the sort of thing that makes Albus close even further in on himself, so instead he just waits.

Finally Albus draws in a breath. "I... I never said sorry. For ruining your blanket. I know you're supposed to have it on Hallows' Eve, and it's my fault it's all burned now. And I know you kept it, but... it probably isn't the same anymore, is it?" 

Harry stares at him. Of all the things Albus could have said that isn't the thing he was expecting. This is what he's been working over in his head for the last few moments? Apologising for the blanket? 

Quickly Harry tries to think back over all the times they've discussed the blanket, the things he's said to Albus about it. Of course the idea Albus had of using it to send them a message had been brilliant. Did he ever tell him that? Ginny certainly did. But maybe... Maybe Albus thinks he's angry about it. 

"Albus," he says, the importance of these words making him hesitate. Everything he says to Albus has to be perfectly constructed. It's so easy to chase him away with a misplaced word. "The blanket... It was only ever just a blanket. It felt... So important at the time, especially when I was giving it to you, but... You being alive, and safe? That's so much more important than some mouldy old blanket, yeah?" 

Albus blinks at him, looking slightly stunned. "You just called it a mouldy blanket..."

"I did."

Albus shifts closer on the step, opening up just a little. "But it's the last thing you have from your mum, and I ruined it. I know you must be upset. Especially today."

Harry looks down at his hands, mind whirling as he tries to work out how to explain. "I'd never had chance to-" He takes a breath. "It was a way of feeling connected to them, I think. When I held it I was holding something they'd held. A-a remnant of when we were together. I'd never seen them, Albus, not that I could remember properly anyway. But last year... Last year I saw them. And I saw what they did for me. I-" He twists his fingers together and glances across at his son. "I didn't really understand before, why they did what they did. But when I thought you were gone... I would have done anything, Albus. If I'd thought it would have got you back. Draco wanted to turn time upside down to find you both. A blanket is a small price to pay."

Albus hugs his cloak tighter round his body. He's shivering slightly. "So you're not, then. Angry about it?"

"No. No I'm not. I don't know if I told you but I thought it was brilliant. And isn't Slytherin house all about resourcefulness?" He gives Albus a small smile, and Albus grins. 

"Among other things." 

"Well, I think you're a credit to your house." 

Albus's grin shifts into something a little smaller but somehow even brighter. He glows at Harry through the darkness, even though his teeth are chattering now, and even though he's shaking from the cold. "Th-thanks." 

Harry draws his wand and gives it a small, wordless flick. Warmth filters through the air, chasing out the cold, making it feel as though they're sitting outside on a mild spring evening rather than a chilly night at the beginning of winter. Albus closes his eyes and holds his hands out, almost like he's reaching them towards a fire. He turns them over, then rubs them together. 

"Sometimes," he says after a moment, "I wonder why I was so stupid. Running away. Getting mixed up in all that stuff. I-I wish I could have- I wish it hadn't taken all that stupid drama. I just had to keep fighting. I couldn't let it go." He sags and runs a hand through his hair. "I'm sorry." 

"We're all stubborn," Harry says. "You're my kid, your mother's kid. I was fighting too. I think we both need to take a share of the blame." Harry turns to face Albus and reaches out to put a hand on his shoulder. "And we're not fighting anymore. Isn't that the important thing?"

"I suppose," Albus murmurs. For a moment he stays rock steady where he is, hugging his knees, tight and small. Then he glances across at Harry and slowly shuffles sideways on the step, until their shoulders are pressed together. Harry hesitates briefly before wrapping an arm round him. Albus reacts almost imperceptibly, a tiny glance in Harry's direction, a very small frown, then he curls in against Harry's side and rests his head on his shoulder. Harry sets his Butterbeer aside and hugs him tight.

Silence stretches between them. The students have all gone from the entrance hall, there are no more footsteps. There's the stir of the wind and quiet breathing and nothing more. The blanket of darkness enfolding them is broken by the golden light streaming from the castle windows and the silver pinpricks of stars overhead. 

A year ago they could never have been still and quiet together like this. Everything was fraught and loud and tense. This would have felt like an impossibility. It still does a tiny bit. It feels like something still fragile, that could shatter at any moment if either of them moves too fast or in the wrong way, but Harry at least has no desire to go anywhere. Not when Albus is melted against his side like this, the way he did when he was much younger and everything was so much easier.

"Why did you come and see me tonight?" Albus asks after what feels like an infinity of contented silence. "You could have stayed at home with mum. Don't you normally work anyway? There must be a raid to do. Or paperwork. Rose told me Hermione was complaining about your paperwork again." 

"There wasn't anyone else I'd rather spend Hallows' Eve with," Harry says, looking at him. 

Albus opens his mouth to say something, then closes it again, seemingly lost for words. He puts his Butterbeer bottle down on the step in front of him where it steams gently, then wraps both arms tight round Harry's waist. Harry gathers him in closer. 

He's always seen Albus hug Ginny this way, always envied them that closeness, how warm and sweet they looked. And now it's him Albus is hugging, and it's as good as he imagined. He ruffles his fingers through Albus's hair and holds onto him. 

"Dad," Albus whispers. 

"Yeah?" Harry asks, looking down at him. 

"I-" Albus swallows. "Happy Halloween." 

A slow smile spreads across Harry's face. "You know, for once I think it might be." 


End file.
